


The Sensible Choice

by korik



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Drabble, Fratricide, Gen, Murder, Poisoning, Random & Short, how do tag, super short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korik/pseuds/korik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Headcanon says the eldest Solidor died first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sensible Choice

It's the first thing he's said in five minutes:

"Does your presence here mean father has made up his mind, then?"

The weight is heavy in his throat, and he swallows dryness. "No."

Those cold eyes, always seeing over him, beyond him, damn them, they are pitying. "I am sorry for that." Those same eyes close. "Let's be done, you've no time to waste."

Terrible, clever brother, he can see then why Vayne doesn't move, why when he opens his eyes he is still alive. Lamont laughs, a grating sound on the younger boy's soul. "What've you done then?"

The boy's hand shakes, resolve waning. "P-poison..."

The laughter grows louder and more awful than before, filling his ears. "Like father, like son." He holds out his hand, gesturing strongly with impatience. "Give me the rest, I'll finish the job for our dearest parent."

The young man's fingers fumble as he turns over the last, shaking as he watches the mad Solidor down the rest. "At least you've proven what you are, in the end, little brother. I'm proud."

Numb and cold makes pin pricks jump up his clumsy feet as he follows the inviting gesture his elder brother makes, becoming crushed into a grasp that should be frail instead of this steel trap.

In his ear, he hears: "Mark you well this event, you've killed me, and Adelaid doesn't stand a chance." The voice is cracking, breaking, heaving for air that will not come and yet the grip is tight and fingers like claws - the boy doesn't move, doesn't flinch.

He's tired of flinching, of listening to his brother. Yes, he outschemed the schemer. But he has slain a brother to prove it. With venom he snarls, "Die already."

There is no sound, no remark, and Vayne comes to realize he has berated empty air. He peels and cracks the fingers from his arms, shoving the body back into its chair where he can stare, and he does, into the lifeless eyes of one called Solidor.


End file.
